You Can Find Me Where The Sea Pours Into The Stars
@gh0st-nebulae
Names Nebula. This has become a Warhammer side blog and a few other things sprinkled in there. She/Her, 31. 🔞 I follow from @nebulaegem I’m into x reader stuff but I tag it. I take doodle requests.
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Might run a traitor primarch version too and then the least favs of both will joust each other in a final duel to determine the least favorite of them all
Warnings: blood, implied SA (An Emperor's Child doing... what he does)
Description: As Taliesin and Little Cat grow ever closer, the Emperor's Child begins his hunt.
Find the previous parts to this series on my Masterlist, comment and ask to be added to/removed from my Taglist, and remember my Asks and DMs are always open!
The plaything had stopped screaming far too soon. It still breathed in His talons, but its eyes had gone dull and blank, its limbs slack. Bloody spittle dripped from its torn lips.
He hissed. In a burst of crude violence, He wrapped His secondary hands around its throat and twisted. The plaything’s head came free in a spray of crimson. He had enough presence of mind to angle the stump, directing the flow over the twitching tapestry of interwoven bodies He’d painstakingly laid out upon the scorched earth.
He twisted the headless corpse this way and that, plump lips pushed forward in a pout of concentration. Finally, with a resigned sigh, He gently set both head and body to the side and placed all four hands on His spiked hips.
“Adequate, merely adequate.”
Even now, He watched the life flicker out of His new playthings like guttering candles. Oh, how He missed his Gallery! He gave a long, sibilant sigh as He imagined what He could have created with access to His sculpting tools, the chemicals He’d procured from none other than the Spider.
Chemicals that would keep a subject’s mind aware even as its body was deconstructed and reconstructed around it.
He absently carved Slaanesh’s sigil into the thigh of what had once been a woman as He thought aloud. “How many internal organs will Bile ask in trade this time, I wonder?”
No matter.
He had to escape this primitive mud ball first.
“No, not first.” He glanced down at the pulsing ring on one of his elongated fingers. “First, I reclaim you, Pet. My precious Pet.”
You’d moved farther away during His indulgence, He could tell. The thought was mildly irritating. But He shrugged.
“There is pleasure in the hunt, I suppose. In the anticipation.”
A shiver ran along his spine at the memory of the first time He’d hunted you.
Your village had burned in a riotous orgy behind Him as He slithered through the trees. Screams and hysterical laughter filled the air with a symphony of anguish, a siren song calling Him back to join His brothers in worshipful excess. He flicked his forked tongue and tasted the ambrosia of blood and sweat and sex upon the air.
As He had a hundred thousand times since surrendering to She Who Thirsts. Easy prey held no more interest for Him.
He wanted the ones who ran, who fought, who resisted. Like the little female scrabbling among the underbrush just ahead. Again, his tongue flicked. His eyes rolled in ecstasy at the sweet, sweet flavor of desperation.
“Run, Pet.” He crooned. “Make me work for it.”
It wasn’t a long hunt. But longer than He’d expected. Your little mortal mind was clever, your body young and strong. When He finally snatched you from the lower limbs of the tree you’d been trying to climb, his blood sang.
Still, you’d fought, digging your blunt little nails into his alabaster skin until his desire ran white hot. He still heard your screams. So full of rage and grief!
He’d enjoyed you for the first time right there, as the smoke from your village rose high into the sky behind him.
The hardening of His body drew him from the rapturous memories. Idly stroking Himself, He circled the bloody carpet, looking for a subject who had not quite- ah, there!
That small one, trying to crawl away on twisted limbs. Its gasping sobs sent a hot thrill through His body.
“Rejoice, plaything. I have time for one more masterpiece.”
***
Taliesin stood exactly five feet from you, lightly grasping the hilt of his chainsword, eyes fixed on his combat knife in your hands.
“Be careful, Little Cat.”
You didn’t respond, only letting out a little huff as you continued using the knife to dig a shallow pit in the stony soil. Your lips pursed, your brows furrowed in concentration. When his knife clanged on a stone, twisting in your tiny hands, he stepped forward.
“Be careful-”
“I know!”
The outburst made him wince and retreat to the agreed-upon distance once more. You’d snipped at him for “looming”. He was trying his best not to “loom”.
Internally, your show of spirit pleased him.
You grow more fiery each day.
Your tongue poked out from between your lips as you worked. He fought the urge to smile at the oddly adorable sight. He did not wish you to think he was mocking your efforts.
“Little Cat-”
“If you tell me to be careful one more time, I swear…!”
He couldn’t stifle a chuckle. “I would not dare. I merely wish to ask how this trap is meant to function.”
They’d eaten the last of the rations he’d scavenged from the wreckage that morning. Rather, you’d eaten them. Taliesin could go longer without sustenance. Especially since he’d fed upon the cannibals days ago-
He frowned at the surge of Thirst that welled within him at the thought, turning away in case you saw any evidence of his curse in his expression. His eyes flicked over the rudimentary trail they’d been following since leaving the river. It wasn’t much more than a dirt track, worn down more by the passage of animals than anything sentient.
Flaring his nostrils, he could make out the scent of human sweat. But it was faint. Weeks old, if he had to guess.
The Lamenter scanned the boulders dotting the landscape. They’d long since left the forest behind, moving ever closer to the mountains. Grass the height of a mortal’s knees swayed in the breeze, quivering with the occasional passing of small, furry quadrupeds.
Quadrupeds you seemed determined to make a meal of.
“... seems to be a spot they pass often.” You were explaining. “I’ll cover the pit with dead grass, and when they come for the berries,” you pointed at a clump of reddish fruit that looked like raw flesh… but tasted far worse, “they’ll fall through.”
You glanced up at him, pride evident on your sweat-streaked face, and snorted.
He arched an eyebrow. “What is so amusing?”
You looked away, but not quickly enough to hide your smile. “Your expression. You're remembering taking a bite of these berries, aren’t you?”
He fought the urge to spit. “I have tasted ork meat more palatable.”
“Oh, Throne! Why?!”
He shrugged. “My squad was ambushed. My hands were occupied with a pair of particularly aggressive grots. Biting seemed the only logical option.”
“I.. suppose.” Your nose remained wrinkled as you returned to covering the pit. “I wasn’t really going to eat them, you know.”
“You had them halfway to your mouth.”
“I was just smelling them!”
“And I was ensuring they were safe for mortal consumption. They were not.” He grimaced as his tongue found a remnant of the berries wedged between his teeth. “Vile flora. I do not understand what the local fauna sees in them.”
You giggled.
His hearts leapt.
I greatly enjoy that sound.
Taliesin forced himself to take another step back. “Distance, Lamenter.” He muttered. “Distance.”
“What did you say?”
For a terrible moment, his mind went blank. “I was… calculating the distance we have left before the pass.”
“Mmm.”
He was grateful you asked no more questions. At the same time, he wished you would ask more. He did not always know how to respond to your words. But he wanted you to speak to him.
It had been so long since someone spoke to him like you did.
For a good reason, Lamenter. You are tempting fate.
Little Cat is growing strong again, I am assisting.
Truly, Lamenter? Just “assisting”?
He did not like the mocking tone of his own thoughts. He did not like what they insinuated.
You stood, brushing dirt and grass from your poncho. “There. It’s… been a while since I made a trap. I hope it works.”
Taliesin allowed himself to come closer, inspecting the crude construct. “Where did you learn to craft such a thing?”
You hesitated. He retreated.
“You need not-”
“Home. I learned… back home.”
***
The wind whistled around the boulders and through the grass. If you closed your eyes, you could almost pretend it was the sound of the sea.
“Home.” You whispered again.
“You miss it.”
Part of you, the brave part only recently awakened, wanted to snap at the Giant in Yellow Armor. Of course you missed your home! But, when you spoke, your words were soft.
“Don’t you?”
You didn’t expect an answer. He often spoke of his time amongst the Emperor’s Angels, the story of the orks was only the most recent. But never of before.
Surely there is a “before”, isn’t there? Unless….
“Were you born an Angel?”
Mere days before, your boldness would have horrified you. No longer.
A look of surprise, then consternation, filtered over Taliesin’s scarred face. Again, you did not truly expect an answer. This world’s sun had already set behind the mountains, painting the rolling hills around you in shadow. You walked back toward the nearest boulder and settled down.
“If these animals are like the ones on my world, they will be active at dusk. We should get something if we wait a few hours.” You shrugged. “Or not. Either way, I can make the fire tonight-”
“No.”
You frowned, crossing your arms. “I know how to make a fire!”
“I was answering your question.” Talisin strode slowly toward you, eyes shining even under the mountains’ shadow. “We are not born… angels… as you call us.”
“...oh.”
He stepped to your side. You wondered when the feeling of the ground shaking beneath his massive boots had stopped frightening you.
“I was young when I was chosen.” His voice was quieter now, his eyes fixed on the horizon. “I do not remember how young. There was a battle, I think. Towers of metal falling. Screams.”
The wind picked that moment to rise, its whispering whistle growing to a shriek. It ruffled his hair, and you swore you saw the muscles in his jaw tense.
“There was a woman. Older. Trapped beneath rubble. The others ran, but I tried to… for an eternity, I tried….” He closed his eyes.
You reached up and curled your hand around two of his armored fingers.
His eyes snapped open.
You looked at your hand in his. So small. He could crush you without effort.
But he won’t.
“I’m sorry.”
He remained still as a statue, staring down at you. “I… have not thought of it in decades. I do not know why… now….”
You tightened your grip. Once before, that night by the river, you had touched him like this. Trying to offer comfort.
It feels… right.
“I think,” you whispered, “that woman would be proud if she could see you now.”
The rush of his breath reminded you of a bellows. Slowly, gently, he pulled his hand from yours.
“I wonder, Little Cat.”
A sense of loss filled you as you let your arm drop back to your side. The cold of the boulder seeped through to your back as you leaned against it. You wrapped your arms around your knees.
“My mother died the day… He… came.”
A long pause.
Then, “What was she like?”
You told him. You told him how she’d raised you and your brothers alone after your father’s fishing boat went down in a storm. How she’d taught you to fish, to trap, to forage. How she’d laughed even as she scolded you for climbing too high or running too fast.
“She wanted me to be strong. So I would survive life’s storms, she said.”
Your voice broke on the words, and you buried your face in your knees. Grief pulsed within you like the tide.
“You did.”
You felt him shift closer, and didn’t flinch away.
“You survived.”
Your lips twisted. You gritted your teeth against the tidal wave of shame and self-loathing.
“I shouldn’t have. Better I’d died.”
“No, Little Cat.”
Digging deep, you found the courage to look up at him.
Those eyes….
Something deep in your stomach fluttered as their golden gaze washed over you.
“All you suffered, all you endured, and still you did as your mother wished. You survived.” He smiled, an expression almost too gentle for his leathery, scarred face. “She would be proud.”
I want to believe it.
“I will keep surviving.” You whispered. “I will.”
His smile widened. “You will.”
Hesitantly, you reached your hand up once more, pausing just before your fingers met his gauntlet. He stared at you for a long moment, smile fading. Then, his hand closed over yours.
Breathing became difficult. “Taliesin-”
THUD. SCREETCH!
“The trap!” You leapt to your feet, nearly braining yourself on his armor. “I told you it would work!”
As you rushed toward what you hoped was your dinner, you almost missed the rumbling sigh from your Giant in Yellow Armor.
A sigh that sounded almost… wistful.
***
He lapped His long fingers with His forked tongue, savoring the flavor of blood and… other fluids. His body thrummed with a sated, hissing purr. It would vanish soon enough, overwhelmed by the eternal craving of those sworn to She Who Thirsts.
But, for now, He enjoyed the sensation.
Until something shifted.
He came to a halt, spine arching, coils twitching. All of a sudden his smooth skin itched. There was a gnawing in his gut, a prickling throughout every enhanced nerve ending. He bared his engraved fangs and snarled into the night.
“What is this?! WHAT IS THIS?!”
His eyes fell upon the ring. Your ring.
It had ceased pulsing.
“NO.”
You still lived, but better you had died. That delicious anguish. That divine shame. Even the lesser loveliness of your physical agony!
It was FADING.
“NO. NO. NO!”
Someone was RUINING you!
With a howl that withered foliage and wreaked massacre among the night creatures, he lurched forward, four hands clawing at the ground, coils expanding and contracting as he forced his crafted body faster.
Faster.
FASTER.
He had indulged too long, been too lax. No longer.
“I will find you, Pet. I will preserve my art.” He allowed his jaw to elongate, his fangs to lengthen and drip their venom. “And, by Slaanesh, I will punish the one who defiles it!”
"guilliman's farm thing is because he's stressed out and the only time he had a vacation was when he was stranded on a farm world"
very fair, he imprinted like a duckling, for just pennies a day we can someday take him clubbing instead
"guilliman's farm thing is because he's an annoying noble that thinks farming is fun, like marie antoinette with the cows"
ok loving this. go annoying boy go
"guilliman's farm thing is because he's actually british, and british people pretend to love farms as a cultural thing"
intriguing, though i don't know enough about british people to understand what any of that means
"guilliman's farm thing is because he's so large so its not actually that difficult to do the work"
perfect! (but no one else thinks this stupid way except me)
but really, how come no one ever seems to bring up Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus, the semi-legendary roman politician who retired to his farm, and then was demanded to come back and be an absolute dictator during a crisis, and then gave up his unlimited authority to retire back to his farm again after only sixteen days? (what if the crisis lasted much longer?)
i think "relinquishing absolute power for some humble calling" is kind of a Thing, as far as storytelling goes, especially when you're trying to depict someone as a moral authority. its not so much that farming is easy, its that culturally, farming is seen as a morally good profession. giving up authority willingly is also seen as morally good. so i think its kind of that, especially when you add in his crusades-era ideas about what astertes should do "after the war is over". man's obsessed with "after"s
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Hey. Your brain needs to de-frag. Literally it needs you to sit there and space out.
If you want your memory or executive function to improve, stare out a window at the skyline or sidewalk or trees or birds on the electrical wires for like 20+ minutes per day. (With no other stimulation like a podcast or TV if you can manage but hey baby steps innit). If you're fortunate enough to have safe outside with any bits of nature, go stare closely at a 1 meter square of grass and trip out on the bugs and shapes of grasses and stuff.
Literally this will make you smarter. Our brains HAVE TO HAVE this zone out time to do important stuff behind the scenes. This does not happen during sleep, it's something else.
That weird pressurized feeling you get sometimes might be your brain on no defrag.
I don't know who you're tying up but PLEASE let it be Dorn. pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease
🙏 on my hands and knees, head on the floor, begging, I need him tied up calling me "Ma'am"
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Might run a traitor primarch version too and then the least favs of both will joust each other in a final duel to determine the least favorite of them all
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